Chapter 4

The elevator to Damien's penthouse requires a key card and fingerprint scan.

I use the card Marcus gave me. The scanner blinks red.

The doorman steps forward. "First time, Dr. Lawson? The system needs to register you. Just place your thumb here."

I hesitate. Once I do this, I'm in the system. Recorded. Official.

No turning back.

I press my thumb to the scanner. It beeps. Glows green.

"All set. Welcome home."

Home. Right.

The elevator doors close. I'm alone in a glass box rising into the sky.

My reflection stares back at me. Designer dress. Professional hair. Expensive shoes.

I look like someone else.

Maybe that's the point.

The elevator opens directly into the penthouse. No hallway. No neighbors. Just straight into his world.

I step out.

And stop breathing.

Floor-to-ceiling windows show the entire city. Morning light floods the space. Everything is clean lines and expensive simplicity. White walls. Dark wood. Art that probably costs more than my medical degree.

This isn't just wealth. It's a different universe.

I walk slowly through the space. Taking it in.

The kitchen is all stainless steel and marble. I open the fridge. Stocked. Fresh. Someone maintains this place even when he's not here.

I run my hand along the counter. Cold stone. Flawless.

The living room has a single couch. Modern. Uncomfortable-looking. A coffee table with nothing on it. No clutter. No life.

It's beautiful and empty all at once.

I move toward the hallway. Three doors.

The first is an office. Dark wood desk. Multiple monitors. Filing cabinets. This is where he works.

Where he keeps his secrets.

I step inside. My heart pounds.

This is why I'm here. The real reason I said yes.

The files about my father are somewhere in this room.

I move to the desk. Papers are stacked neatly. I flip through them. Merger documents. Financial reports. Nothing about Lawson Medical Solutions.

I try the filing cabinet. Locked.

Of course it is.

I open desk drawers. Looking for keys. For anything.

Third drawer down, I find a folder.

It's not labeled.

I open it.

Photos spill out.

All of me.

Dozens of them. Different times. Different places. Some from years ago. Some recent.

Me leaving the hospital. Me at the grocery store. Me visiting my father. Me walking through the park near my apartment.

All taken without my knowledge.

My hands shake.

Five years. He's been documenting me for five years.

What kind of person does this?

I flip through more photos. Stop on one.

It's me five years ago. Outside my father's office building. I'm on the phone. Laughing at something.

I remember that day. Lily had just gotten accepted to college. I was so happy for her.

That was three weeks before everything fell apart.

Before Damien Cross bought my father's company.

Before our lives shattered.

He took this photo. And then he destroyed us.

Why?

I search the folder for answers. Find a sticky note on the back of one photo.

Just two words in sharp handwriting: *Find her.*

Find me? I wasn't lost.

Unless he meant something else.

I check my phone. I've been here twenty minutes. Need to keep moving.

I leave the office. Move to the second door.

The bedroom.

I push it open.

King-size bed. Dark sheets. More windows. More city views.

Nothing was out of place. Like everything else in this place.

I walk to the nightstand. Open the drawer.

A book. Reading glasses. And a small velvet box.

My curiosity wins.

I open the box.

A ring. Diamond. Simple. Beautiful.

My stomach drops.

Is this for me? For the girlfriend he thinks I am?

Or for someone else? Someone real?

I close the box. Put it back.

This is too much. I need air.

The third door leads to a guest room. Unused. Impersonal.

I go back to the living room. Stand at the windows.

The city sprawls below. Millions of people living their ordinary lives.

And I'm standing in a billionaire's penthouse wearing a lie like armor.

My phone buzzes.

Marcus: *Board meeting moved up. 9 AM. Get back to hospital. Now.*

I check the time. 8:15 AM.

I have forty-five minutes.

I take one last look around. Trying to memorize details. Make this place familiar enough to be convincing.

But all I can think about is the folder full of photos.

Five years of surveillance.

What was he looking for?

The elevator doors open. I step inside.

As they close, I catch my reflection again.

I look like I belong in that penthouse.

The thought makes me sick.

The car is waiting. I slide in.

My phone rings. Unknown number.

I answer without thinking. "What do you want?"

"Temper, temper, Dr. Lawson." The voice is distorted. Electronic. "Did you enjoy the penthouse? Get a good look at your future?"

"Who is this?"

"Someone who's been watching you almost as long as Damien Cross has. The difference is, I know why he's obsessed with you. Do you want to know?"

My grip tightens on the phone. "Tell me."

"Where's the fun in that? You're a smart woman. Figure it out. The clues are all there. In his files. In his past. In yours." A pause. "Three days, Emma. Seventy hours now. Play your role well. Keep Damien Cross alive and functional. And maybe, just maybe, you'll learn the truth about what your father really did. And why so many people want to bury it."

"My father didn't do anything wrong."

"Didn't he?" The voice sounds amused. "Then why did Damien Cross have him investigated for six months before the acquisition? Why did he personally oversee the takeover instead of delegating like usual? Why did he pay your father three times what the company was worth?"

I freeze. "What?"

"You didn't know? James Lawson walked away from that deal with fifteen million dollars. Where did it all go, Emma? Because it certainly didn't go to his family."

The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone.

Fifteen million dollars.

That can't be right.

My father lost everything in the takeover. That's why we're drowning in debt. That's why Lily dropped out. That's why everything fell apart.

Unless it didn't.

Unless he was paid. Handsomely.

And he lost the money some other way.

Or hid it.

The car pulls up to the hospital. I get out in a daze.

Walk through the lobby. Take the elevator up.

When I reach Damien's floor, Marcus is waiting.

"You're late."

"I'm here." I smooth my dress. "What do I need to know?"

"The board is in the conference room. Ten members. Richard Chen will try to get Damien to admit he's impaired. Don't let him. And whatever you do, act like you've been together for months. Familiarity. Intimacy. Make them believe it."

"I'm a doctor, not an actress."

"Today you're both." Marcus hands me a visitor badge. "Damien's already in there. He's been asking for you."

We walk to the conference room. Through the glass walls, I see them.

Ten people in expensive suits. Sitting around a table. Watching Damien like predators watching prey.

And there, at the head of the table, is Richard Chen. His gold ring catches the light.

He sees me. Smiles.

It doesn't reach his eyes.

Marcus opens the door. "Gentlemen. Dr. Emma Lawson."

Every head turns toward me.

Damien stands. His face transforms when he sees me.

"Emma." He crosses to me. Takes my hand. Kisses my cheek. "Thank god. I was getting worried."

The gesture is so natural. So convincing.

I almost believe it myself.

"Sorry I'm late." I smile. Play the role. "Traffic."

"Of course." He leads me to a chair beside his. Keeps holding my hand.

Richard Chen clears his throat. "Mr. Cross. We're glad to see you recovering. However, given the circumstances, the board has concerns about your ability to continue as CEO during this critical time."

"I understand your concerns." Damien's voice is steady. "But I assure you, I'm fully capable of seeing this merger through."

"Are you?" Richard leans forward. "You were in a serious accident. You have injuries. And we've heard reports of memory issues."

"Minor. Temporary. Nothing that affects my business judgment."

"Then you won't mind answering a few questions." Richard's smile is sharp. "To demonstrate your... competence."

"Richard." An older woman at the table speaks up. "This is hardly necessary."

"On the contrary, Victoria. It's completely necessary. We're talking about a two-billion-dollar merger. We need assurance that our CEO is operating at full capacity." Richard turns back to Damien. "Simple questions. If you can answer them, we'll drop our concerns."

Damien squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.

"Ask."

Richard pulls out a document. "Let's start with the Henderson account. What percentage stake did we acquire in Q3?"

Damien answers immediately. Accurately.

Richard asks more questions. Financials. Contracts. Deals from the past year.

Damien answers every single one. Sharp. Precise. No hesitation.

I watch the board members relax. Nod. Satisfied.

Richard's jaw tightens. He's losing.

"One final question." His eyes lock on me. Then on Damien. "Tell us about Emma. How did you two meet?"

The room goes silent.

This isn't a business question. This is a trap.

Damien doesn't know how we met. The amnesia erased that.

If he can't answer, Richard proves he's impaired.

If he makes something up, Richard might know it's a lie.

I feel Damien's hand tense in mine.

Marcus shifts by the door. Waiting to see if this fails.

Richard smiles. Victorious.

But Damien looks at me. Really looks at me.

"I met Emma two years ago at a hospital fundraiser." His voice is calm. "She was in the corner, avoiding the crowd. I asked her why she wasn't mingling. She said she didn't know how to make small talk with people who thought money solved everything."

I hold my breath. He's making this up. But it sounds real.

"I told her that money doesn't solve everything. Sometimes it just illuminates what's broken." He brings my hand to his lips. Kisses my knuckles. "She said I was either very wise or very full of myself. I've been trying to figure out which ever since."

The board chuckles. The tension breaks.

"And you've been together since?" Richard presses.

"Not immediately. Emma doesn't date easily. She has trust issues." Damien smiles at me. "Took me six months to convince her to have coffee. Another six before she'd let me take her to dinner."

"Why?" Richard's voice is sharp.

Damien's expression shifts. Becomes serious.

"Because someone hurt her once. Badly. And she needed to know I wouldn't do the same."

The way he says it. The look in his eyes.

It's so specific. So real.

Does he remember something?

Or is he just that good at reading people?

Richard sits back. Defeated.

"Well." Victoria speaks up. "I think that's sufficient. Mr. Cross is clearly in full command of his faculties. I move we proceed with the merger vote as scheduled."

The board votes. Nine in favor. One against.

Richard Chen is the only dissent.

Damien won.

The meeting ends. Board members file out. Congratulating Damien. Acknowledging me with polite nods.

Richard is the last to leave. He stops beside me.

"Dr. Lawson. A pleasure to finally meet you." He extends his hand.

I shake it. His grip is firm. Cold.

"Mr. Chen."

"I've heard so much about you." His eyes bore into mine. "From various sources. I look forward to getting to know you better."

There's a threat in those words.

He leaves.

I'm alone with Damien.

He sags against the table. Exhausted.

"You did it," I say. "You convinced them."

"We did it." He looks at me. "That story about the fundraiser. About you having trust issues. It felt true. Was it?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Someone hurt you." It's not a question. "Before me. Who?"

The answer sits on my tongue. You did. You destroyed my family.

But I can't say it.

Not yet.

"We should get you back to your room. You need rest."

"Emma." He catches my wrist. Gentle. "I meant what I said. About not hurting you. Even if I can't remember exactly what I did, I know I don't want to lose you. Whatever we have, it matters."

My heart twists.

He means it. Every word.

But it's built on a lie.

My phone buzzes.

Marcus hands it to me. His face is pale.

I look at the screen.

A news alert.

Breaking: Body Found in Apartment Fire. Victim Identified as James Lawson, 58.

My father.

The room tilts.

"Emma?" Damien's voice sounds far away. "What's wrong?"

I can't speak. Can't breathe.

My father is dead.

And someone made sure I'd find out right now. Right here.

Marcus takes the phone. Reads. His face goes white.

"We need to go," he says. "Now."

But I can't move.

Because I understand.

This isn't just about Damien's merger.

This is about my father's secrets.

And someone just silenced him permanently.

Before I could ask him about the fifteen million dollars.

Before I could ask him what really happened five years ago.

My father is dead.

And I'm standing in a room with the man who might have killed him.